


More Than Words Can Say

by prototyping



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, kinda fluffy-ish, post-kh3, this turned out cuter than I intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 06:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10458186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: He remained as close to Xion and Lea as he ever had, but he still felt as though Naminé understood him better than anybody. It was more of a gut feeling than anything he could really prove or even explain.Roxas/Naminé, post-KH3.





	

“Careful -- you got it?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Here. Jump over that last part, okay? I’ve got ya.” Roxas reached down to take Naminé’s other hand, as well, and gave both a gentle tug to help her up over the last tall step. With their combined efforts she cleared it easily, beaming at him in gratitude as she joined him on the crest of the rocky hill. The footing was still tricky up here, so he went slow and kept a hold of one hand as he continued to lead.

“How much farther?” she asked with a laugh.

“Not much.” Even as he answered, the precarious stone under their feet gave way to grass. The ground continued to level out as it led into a thick line of trees, making the going a little easier as they stepped carefully over roots and around hanging vines. It was much cooler in the shade.

The hum of falling water grew closer, deepening to a growl and then a steady roar. Keeping the river on his right, Roxas scanned the trees ahead and-- “There!” he announced with a glance back at Naminé. “Right up here.”

She looked curious, but only nodded and continued to follow. A moment later they emerged from the jungle and into the open, and then he heard her gasp softly beside him.

The grass ended suddenly, shifting to the gravel and sand that made up much of the small, open glen. A much thinner branch of the river ran through here, the water a soft and steady murmur compared to the rush of noise from before. And on either side of the shore were perched dozens -- probably hundreds of small white birds, round balls of downy fluff that twittered and jumped about and dipped their heads into the cool water. Despite the large number of them, the sound of their tweets was calm and quiet. A few of them fluttered away at the arrival of the two humans, but then after a few wary moments quickly returned to their business. 

“It’s beautiful!” Naminé released Roxas’ hand to clasp both of hers over her chest in admiration. “It’s so… serene here.”

“I know how much you like drawing birds,” he told her, “so I thought maybe…”

“That’s why you told me to bring it,” she deduced. He watched as she reached into the bag at her side to pull out her sketchpad. She hugged it to herself and beamed up at him. “That’s so thoughtful, Roxas,” she said fondly. “You’re right, these little guys are so pretty. And this is a great spot, too.” She sat down in the grass exactly where she was, turning her expectant smile up at him until he joined her. She opened the book to a blank page, set it against her knees, and produced a colored pencil from somewhere.

Like the last time he had come here, it didn’t take long for some of the birds to grow curious. A couple of them hopped in his and Naminé’s direction, small heads tilted inquisitively. Her smile grew.

As she sketched a few light, overlapping circles, she asked without looking up, “Do you come here a lot?”

Roxas shook his head. “Huh-uh. I’ve… only been to this world once.” He hadn’t meant to hesitate there. Naminé caught it and glanced at him. “...Sora,” he said after a short pause. He figured that would be enough of an explanation; her warm hum confirmed it.

“Does it happen much?” she wondered, turning back to her book.

“What, the deja vu?”

She nodded.

“...No?” Roxas frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not really sure. Sometimes I know it’s from him. Other times I think I’ve just seen something really similar, so it reminds me of that. It’s easy to get them confused. And then there’s Ventus, too,” he added.

“Ven?”

“Right. I can always tell the difference between his and Sora’s memories, though. But not always between mine and theirs.”

Naminé’s pencil fell still, although her eyes stayed on the paper. “Does it bother you?” she inquired. “Picking up on their memories?”

Roxas held Naminé in a special regard for a few reasons. The way he didn’t have to explain this -- the way she just _knew_ and understood -- was one of them. He remained as close to Xion and Lea as he ever had, but he still felt as though Naminé understood him better than anybody. It was more of a gut feeling than anything he could really prove or even explain.

He had to think on her question for a moment, surprised to find he couldn’t give an immediate answer. “It… can be frustrating, sometimes,” he admitted. He felt her watching him again. “Having so much inside… not always knowing where it belongs, or where it came from. But…” He looked down at his hands, clenching them slightly. “...At the same time, I think that’s okay. I don’t… _need_ to know everything -- not the little things. Not when I already know who I am, and what _my_ memories are.”

Naminé reached over, settling one hand over his. It prompted him to meet her gaze, and he found her smiling brightly but softly. It was an encouraging expression, and even though he wasn’t sure what it was telling him, he found it reassuring all the same.

“And who are you, Roxas?” she asked gently.

This time, he didn’t have to think. His eyes returned to the skyline, an expanse of blue that stretched over and was finally lost behind the distant trees. It was reminiscent of the tranquility of twilight on a hillside; of bright sunshine over the ocean; of deep night above the mountains.

“I am… who I am,” he said firmly. “I’m me.”

Naminé gave his fingers a light squeeze as she nodded. “Mm. We’re all made up of memories. Our own, and those of the people who matter to us. But in your case… I think you’re very lucky, actually.”

“Lucky?” he echoed.

“Yes.” Her smile shrank -- not fading as much as turning a little shy. “You’re you -- but you also have two wonderful people who are very close to you, who make up a part of who you are so deeply that it’s hard to put into words. Right?” When Roxas nodded slowly, Naminé also looked out at the sky. “I see a little bit of that every time I look at the three of you. Each one of you is his own person… but there are some bonds that can’t be made intentionally, even through friendship. You and Sora and Ven share that kind of connection -- and you’ve even become friends on top of that.” She gave a short, quiet laugh. “And those memories you feel… they’re never bad, are they?”

Roxas hesitated, but then quickly realized she was right. “...No. They’re always happy. Always warm.”

“It’s because of your connection. Just like you’d only want to give kind words to the people you care about, those two only want to give you good memories. Even if they’re not aware that they’re doing it.”

The two of them were silent for a long minute as Roxas mulled that over. Naminé didn’t seem to expect any particular response, but she didn’t go back to her drawing, either. She just continued to hold his hand as she gazed out over the riverbed and the birds, a handful of which had grown comfortable enough to linger just out of arm’s reach as they soaked in the sun to dry their feathers.

_Lucky._ That wasn’t really a word he’d considered before -- but now he could see that she was right again. Making it this far, being given a second chance, recovering everything that had ever mattered to him, and more besides, and then being accepted and accepting _himself_... What greater luck was there?

“What about you?” he wondered, earning a curious glance. “We’re not that different, are we? And besides... you’re in their memories just as much as mine.”

Naminé tilted her head thoughtfully. “How can you tell that?”

“It’s the same warm feeling.” He pressed his hand to his chest unconsciously. “When I’m with you. Except…”

“Except…?” She leaned forward, trying to catch his eye, but Roxas looked away. The explanation had seemed simple in his head, but now he wasn’t sure he wanted to finish it. Not out loud, anyway.

“Nothing,” he said finally. “It’s just… not the same. That’s all.”

She giggled. “You just said it was, Roxas.”

“I mean -- it’s the same as _their_ other feelings, but not--” He hadn’t meant to put so much stress on that one word. Unsurprisingly, Naminé caught it.

“...But not yours?” she offered.

Roxas wavered. Talking about emotions had somehow been easier back when he was convinced he didn’t have them. Now he felt awkward, but he wasn’t sure why. “...Yeah,” he admitted, still not looking at her. “Sometimes I can tell how they feel around you. But it’s... different. From how I feel.” Beyond that, he wasn’t sure how explain it. He hoped she wouldn’t press.

She didn’t. She only set her sketchpad aside on the grass and leaned over, resting her shoulder against his. Her weight was warm and comfortable, the same as the feeling he couldn’t describe.

“I’m really glad to hear that, Roxas.” She didn’t elaborate on why, but that was all right. He didn’t feel the need to ask.

After a while of that easy silence, Naminé returned to her sketches, but continued to lean against him as she worked. Roxas watched her trace out each line with meaning, her bright eyes constantly moving between her paper and the birds that had gathered near her feet. Shapes became soft outlines; small, seemingly random curves connected to create feathers.

Roxas suddenly wondered if that was how she saw memory: details to be copied, changed, or even erased. He wondered if she handled them with the same care, attentive and precise and respectful of the source from whence they came. He could picture it easily enough.

The next time she stole a glance at him, she did a double-take. “What is it?”

“What?”

“You’re smiling.” She cocked an eyebrow, but it was still a friendly look -- even a pleased one.

“I am?” Oh. So he was. “Uh… I guess… it’s just interesting to watch.”

With a small hum of a laugh, Naminé took his hand and placed it over hers, curling his fingers so that he mirrored her grip on the pencil. “Why don’t you help me? I’ll show you how to shade -- really lightly, like this -- and you can do the next one.”

“I probably shouldn’t. Your bird’ll end up looking like a dalmatian or something.”

That made her giggle again, which came right back around and made him laugh, too. She slipped her fingers between his, intertwining them until they had to work together to hold the pencil upright. “Don’t worry,” she assured him. “I won’t let go.”


End file.
